


Star-Man

by babywarg (morphaileffect)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Drama, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-06 21:23:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16840681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morphaileffect/pseuds/babywarg
Summary: No one knew that Stephen and Tony had a sort of relationship, so no one else's memory needed to be wiped. All he had to take care of was Tony - headstrong, shrewd Tony, who would defy logic and move heaven and earth to find Stephen and be with him again...potentially leaving the Earth unprotected as he went on his futile search.- that is, if he even remembered what he needed to find Stephen for.





	Star-Man

**Author's Note:**

> i'm sure this theme has been used in fic before, in a much better way...but i woke up this morning wanting to give mah boiz angst and i would not be denied.
> 
> title may or may not have been inspired by [david bowie's song of the same name.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sI66hcu9fIs) that, plus the notion that people who go round in space age really, really slowly compared to us mere mortals.
> 
> have you guys seen [this uber-cute and uber-touching fan art by 黒雨](https://twitter.com/blackrain_1019/status/1043466939480174592)? you really should. it may help set the tone for this fic. or not. but look at it anyway because it's [uber-touching and uber-cute](https://twitter.com/blackrain_1019/status/1043466939480174592).
> 
> many thanks once again to my wonderful beta, [eclair](https://www.instagram.com/claircolors/) <3
> 
> originally posted on [tumblr](http://babywarg.tumblr.com/post/180777951529/ironstrange-fic-star-man).

Tony threw his arms out wide. “You wanted to see me, doc?”

The playful look on his face made it look like he was angling for a hug. But it wasn’t a good time for hugs. Not right now.

“Tony,” Stephen carefully began, “I’m going away for a while…”

Tony’s arms fell to his side. A look of worry crossed his face.

“To where?” he asked. “How long?” 

The questions sounded so innocent, they might as well have belonged to a 7-year-old boy who had no idea he was going to be abandoned by his parents. For good.

He almost seemed too young, too simple to understand what was going on - but those were words that had never before been used to describe Tony Stark.

“A long time,” Stephen answered. “Something’s come up. Can’t we just leave it at that?”

Tony began to frown. He crossed his arms over his chest.

“I don’t know, can we? Or maybe you know me better than that, Steve.”

 _Steve_. The name was a dagger in Stephen’s chest. He should never have let Tony know about it. No one had called him that in years, and whenever Tony did it, he only ever did it with complete awareness of how much it hurt.

“I do know you better than that. You deserve an explanation.”

“Damn right I do. And you better give me a straight one. No tricks.”

Stephen avoided the dare, looked around. “Maybe we should sit.”

“Maybe right here is fine.” The tone was cold. But still a good deal warmer than unforgiving.

Stephen sighed, and obliged. “Tony…there’s a presence approaching the Earth. It’s strong. Very strong. I haven’t found a way to repel it. The only thing I’ve found is that…”

“What?” Tony interrupted. “That it’s useless for you to look up how to defeat it on your own?” His voice became softer, almost pleading. “Dude, you’re an Avenger now, remember? You’re part of a team. That means you get people to pass some of the hard labor on to.”

Stephen had to smile. Tony prided himself on being the fix-it guy. He liked being hands-on. Thrived on it.

It was Tony’s familiar way of saying “let me help you.” But Stephen couldn’t afford to listen.

“As the Earth’s Sorcerer Supreme,” Stephen softly replied, “I’m afraid all of the hard labor is on me.”

He proceeded to explain that the presence was a uni-dimensional entity, drawn to planets with vast reserves of psychic power - in short, planets with their own Sorcerers Supreme to defend them.

It fed off psychic energy, and when it was done with one planet, it became more powerful, so that the next planet on its path only had less of a chance to survive. Somehow it was able to detect which planets had a Sorcerer Supreme less able to withstand its assault. It had already left several planets completely destroyed, each planet’s Sorcerers Supreme powerless against it.

There was only one way to avoid it…

And that was to pretend that the Earth had NO Sorcerer Supreme.

“Simply put, the creature needs to think the Earth isn’t worth bothering with.” There was no time to delve into the intricacies of psychic hierarchies, the fact that there were records in magical tomes of this having been done successfully by other Sorcerers Supreme before, laws on unstoppable objects vs immovable forces not applying to preternatural opponents…and of course the futility of _moving the Earth out of the creature’s path_ , so he chose to leave those little details out. “While I’m gone, I’ll make sure that the Earth will be enveloped in a deceptive shield - sort of a large flashing sign that says ‘Nope, no Sorcerers here, not an astrally advanced enough species’ so that the entity, whenever it gets here, will move on.”

“You didn’t answer me,” Tony acidly interrupted, and Stephen froze. “Where are you going? How long will you be gone?

"Other worlds. Maybe other universes. Being away gives me less of a chance of being ferreted out. And 20 years.” He shrugged. “Give or take.”

He didn’t quite expect Tony’s tantrum afterwards. Or maybe he did. He just never thought it would affect him as much.

“20 years?” Tony yelled, close to his face. “20 fucking years, Stephen?!”

At least it wasn’t “Steve.” That way, Stephen could take the heat.

Tony paced back and forth, fuming.

“What did you expect to hear from me? Good luck, have fun, bring me back a souvenir? Take me with you? I can’t believe it, you’re just _telling_ me this! You didn’t even think of asking me before making such a huge decision, did you? About asking the other Avengers?”

“I have no time to brainstorm with you, or with the rest of the team,” Stephen answered calmly. “The entity is coming tonight. I need to get this done now.”

“Get 'this’ done? What –”

Stephen stepped up to Tony.

Planted his palm gently on Tony’s forehead.

Whispered into Tony’s ear, “Hush.”

There was a brief flash of light where their skin made contact.

And it was over.

 _Memory spells aren’t reliable,_ the Ancient One had said to him. _You can pick and choose the memories you want gone, but there’s no assurance they’ll STAY gone. You’ll have to live with the consequences, Stephen, no matter what._

Tony staggered back. Seemed disoriented for a minute.

Then, his gaze refocused, and he spread his arms wide.

“You wanted to see me, doc?”

There was no playfulness in his voice, this time. Only curiosity.

He’d come because he was summoned. By the Earth’s Sorcerer Supreme.

Not by Stephen. Or Steve. Not by anyone he knew more intimately.

Stephen had to fight for the pain to not to reach his face.

One year of fights, of trysts, of kisses, stolen or otherwise, of promises and curses and unspoken vows.

Of love.

Gone.

“Tony,” Stephen carefully began again. His voice might have broken slightly, but he hadn’t meant it to. “I’m going away for a while.”

***

Time moves differently across universes and worlds, and there’s much a Sorcerer Supreme could do in 20 Earth years. There were new species to meet, new magic to learn, many new things to discover.

There were also other ways he could protect the Earth, without actually _being_ on Earth. It felt a lot like hovering, the Earth and the life he'd left behind on it just barely out of reach.

In the meantime, Stephen drew only enough power from the energies around him (not the dark dimension: never that) so that he never aged, never slowed down.

At any rate, it was always a temporary arrangement.

It was the entity’s fault for moving too goddamn slowly. 20 years was the minimum wait time for it to pass. If the psychic energy-eating behemoth had been moving faster, it wouldn’t be as hard for anyone.

As it stood, Stephen had to wait it out. He had no contact with anyone from Earth, no one who might betray his location to the creature, or compromise his resolve to stay away. This meant Wong, Christine…or Tony Stark.

And then if, after 20 years, he returned to find the Earth in pieces, he planned on using the Time Stone to look back at where things went wrong, then to go back in time, and use the knowledge he’d acquired in all his years away to fix it.

But! If nothing bad had happened to the earth while he was gone…then, well, Doctor Strange’s gamble had paid off.

No one knew that he and Tony had a sort of relationship, so no one else’s memory needed to be wiped. All he had to take care of was Tony - headstrong, shrewd Tony, who would defy logic and move heaven and earth to find Stephen and be with him again…potentially leaving the Earth unprotected as he went on his futile search.

\- that is, if he even remembered what he needed to find Stephen _for_.

Stephen’s reasoning was this: If Tony’s memories of their year together were dealt with, there would be no complications. The Earth would never lose its best defender. And upon his return, they would just be friends again, colleagues again, Avengers again.

Stephen’s 20-year escape plan would be so very simple.

And yet…

There were times when he missed Tony so fiercely, that he contemplated visiting other universes, other realities, where Tony existed and he didn’t. Where there was no Stephen for Tony to fall in love with. Or where they both existed, but were not in love, and would never be. Perhaps they would never even meet.

At the same time, he knew that it was risky, and there might be no way back…especially if he found a particular dimension where he wanted to stay.

There were times when small things he encountered on his journeys reminded him of Tony, and he had to steel himself to prevent his own memories from leaking out and buoying him back to Earth.

There were times when he wished…that when he finally did come home, Tony would remember.

And greet him with open arms. Obnoxiously strong embraces. Warm, fuzzy kisses. The brightest of laughs.

And a ton of stories and shared memories, “remember when"s that would bring a smile to his lips.

And forgiveness.

He often thought about using the memory spell on himself, but he decided against it for a number of reasons.

One of them was that he deserved to suffer.

There should have been time for a proper goodbye. Then, maybe, being without Tony wouldn’t hurt this much.

But it did, and it should.

The only way Tony would end up remembering their time together would be if Stephen’s memory spell would fail. And he had worked hard at making sure it would not fail. He had erased every single private moment he and Tony had shared. He had only left the missions, the camaraderie, the mutual respect they had for each other as warriors.

No room for sentiment. No drawbacks.

No tricks.

***

Approximately 20 years later, a Stephen Strange who looked and sounded exactly as he did when he left, braced himself, and opened a portal back to Earth.

And…

He came back to a technological marvel.

Stark Industries had become the world’s leading source of scientific innovations - a world that left hardly any room in it for magic. Everything was efficient, streamlined, for a faster and less patient civilization. Shielded from the biggest psychic threat it had ever experienced, and protected by the Avengers and their affiliates from most physical dangers, the Earth experienced a new technological renaissance.

And in the front and center of it all was Tony.

He looked great, for the record. Mostly white hair and beard, wrinkles where there didn’t used to be any, lean and strong-looking even with muscles less defined - but still, brown eyes that shone with intelligence, wonder, and an unquenchable inner light. Still with impeccable (if now old-fashioned) sense of style.

He greeted Stephen with a firm, hearty pat on the shoulders, like a compatriot would.

(This older Tony would never call him “Steve.” Would never push his buttons knowingly. Would never demand to be part of his life outside the battlefield.)

"Back like a star-man, hasn’t aged a day,” Tony quipped. “Welcome home, star-man.”

Stephen only smiled.

He would have been happy to leave their first meeting at that. But back in his old and dutifully preserved Sanctum, he was surprised to find a pre-recorded message from Tony.

In it, Tony insisted on taking Stephen around, as soon as his schedule (Tony’s, not Stephen’s) permitted. So many things about the world had changed, Tony explained, and who better to keep the bewilderment at bay than one of the chief architects of this bright new future?

Stephen was about to refuse first thing in the morning - one of the mystic arts he’d mastered was, in fact, adapting to radically unfamiliar environments, so “bewilderment” was hardly ever an issue.

But before dawn of the next day, Tony had already parked a very flashy red hovercar in front of the large symbol on his Sanctum, and had woken him - and all the other residents of the Sanctum - up by knocking loudly on the glass and yelling like an attention-starved child.

***

The rest of the day was basically a joyride through high-tech New York and its environs, with hyper-verbal Tony gladly playing the role of tour guide. It was true, so much had changed - but not Tony.

Exploring a new reality with a deeply familiar Tony turned out to be pleasant.

It was - did he even dare think it? - very much like a date.

Tony all but physically bent over backwards trying to impress him, introducing new and upcoming inventions like a toddler showing off his toys, and how clever he was.

Stephen remembered when Tony used to do that almost every day. He couldn’t help it: he still found it charming.

More than once, he caught Tony staring at his face. Whenever he did, Tony would draw attention off it by blurting out an idea or an interesting anecdote from the last 20 years.

And, more than once, Stephen thought he felt Tony standing a little too near, leaning a little too close to him.

He told himself: his own guilt must have been playing tricks on him. Tony didn’t remember. He couldn’t.

***

The day ended late, with Stephen feeling exhausted. No doubt Tony did as well, because the two men stood on the Stark Tower (v.3.6) deck side by side, without saying a word.

It was like they both knew the hour of parting had come, but neither wanted to admit it.

Presently, Stephen took the reins. “I have to go, Tony.”

From where he stood, he could feel Tony stiffen up in alarm.

“To where? How long?”

They were strange questions to ask, and Tony knew it. He dropped his flustered gaze.

“You mean the Sanctum. Of course. Well, it _is_ kind of late, doc. Must be past your bedtime.”

Stephen smiled.

“Past yours, too, old man,” he couldn’t resist shooting back.

Tony stayed silent, not looking at him. Stephen guessed this meant there was no offer of a hovercar ride back to the Sanctum. No matter.

He started to walk away, to a clearer space where he could set up a portal home - but Tony’s hand shot out and caught the hem of his cloak.

He stopped. Looked back at Tony. Who still wasn’t looking at him. Still wasn’t letting go.

“Old man. Yeah, that’s me.” Tony’s voice was so hushed, it was difficult to hear him. “Too old to suit up. Should’ve ditched all of my suits, or given them away to young blood, but I haven’t. Sometimes I take one of them out and go off looking for something. Sometimes I end up finding trouble, but most of the time, I don’t find anything at all.”

He let go of the cloak, but Stephen didn’t go anywhere. He stood, facing Tony, who was starting to seem agitated.

“And I don’t know why I’m telling you this, except it feels like I’ve finally found what I’ve been looking for. All this time. _All this time._ And I can finally take off the suit now. Because that’s it. I’m done. And…”

His voice broke.

His shoulders started to shake.

He hid his face with one hand, and folded an arm across his chest - folded into himself, in a desperate attempt to hide.

But Stephen didn’t let him. Not after all this time.

He drew his arms around Tony. Held him close. As close as he should have held him last time. And all those other times they’d missed.

Tony buried his face in Stephen’s shoulder. He let Tony break against him. Wave after wave of grief and longing and regret crashed down upon them both. It felt to Stephen like standing in front of a storm, and he felt like breaking, too.

A quick, furtive look into Tony’s mind said he didn’t remember. Not a single detail of their lost year together.

But he didn’t have to remember. The memories weren’t stored in his mind.

They were in his aging body, his cells, the very fabric of his being.

As they were in Stephen’s.

All this time.

When he had calmed down a bit, Tony stood back, still holding on to Stephen’s arms, and let out a small, bitter chuckle.

“I don’t know why I’m asking this of you. Think of it as a pathetic old geezer’s wish.” He looked up at Stephen’s face. “But…stay. This time. Please. No tricks.”

It was the look in his eyes that finally got to Stephen, reached in and tore him inside out.

He closed the distance between them again and planted a long, lingering kiss in Tony’s hair before Tony could see the first tear fall.

“No tricks,” he gently promised.


End file.
